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FAIRY - LAND.
Dim vales--and shadowy floods---
Comes down-still down-and down,
They use that moon no more For the same end as before
Videlicet a tent
Which I think extravagant:
Of which those butterflies
Of Earth, who seek the skies.
In spring of youth it was my lot
But when the Night had thrown her pall
To the terror of the lone lake.
Yet that terror was not fright,
Death was in that poisonous wave,
An Eden of that dim lake.